


Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes

by sunlightsmarrow



Series: Nobody Said It Was Easy [2]
Category: Captain America, Captain America: The Winter Solider
Genre: Bucky has huge-ass issues, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, this makes me sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:25:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1491562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsmarrow/pseuds/sunlightsmarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As they leave the Smithsonian, Bucky tries his best to keep Bucky there and not revert.  Slashy if  you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sergeant James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes

One thing that hadn’t changed about Steve Rogers was his bike. Sure, it might have been a little newer, but Bucky recognized it as his style. A rueful smile flickered across his lips as they walked toward it from the lawn of the National Mall, Steve leading the way slowly. Their shoes crunched on the gravel and Bucky frowned at a pebble that had lodged itself in his shoe. He impatiently kicked at the ground to put it in a part of his foot that would hurt less. He opened his mouth to speak when the pebble had gotten to a better place, but they had reached the bike and Bucky wasn’t sure how Steve wanted him to ride it. The tall blonde straddled it just like he always had, bouncing a little and testing how the shocks were feeling. Bucky just stood there, giving it an apprehensive eye and sending a questioning glance Steve’s way.

“Hop on,” he invited, patting the excess of leather behind him. His eyes were bright with a quiet excitement. “I never was a sidecar kinda guy.” There was that charming smile that Bucky remembered, deep, deep away from the first time that Steve had pulled him through the small hole in his armor. It was the one that he had flashed Peggy a few times before they started getting serious about each other. It tried its best not to be awkward, but there was still a sort of longing for something to go Steve’s way, when so much hadn't.

Bucky knew that _he_ was what Steve wanted to go his way. It hit him and he blinked, struggling with his breath again. Even the Winter Soldier wasn’t devoid of emotion and understanding. _Steve_ wasn’t a _sidecar_ man, and never had been. 

With a slow, deep breath, Bucky ran his metal hand over the supple leather and wished that his other arm worked so that he could feel the softness, the tenderness. He rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder, still trying to memorize how broad it really was. He still wasn’t the scrawny kid from Brooklyn. A knot was forming at the pit of Bucky’s stomach.

“Just like riding a bike,” he marveled, using his grip to settle in behind Steve. Steve’s back moved with a soft chuckle. He kicked the bike to life and pushed out of his parking space and into the street. Almost out of instinct, Bucky’s hand grasped Steve’s hip. This kind of intimacy he hadn’t known in such a long time and as they wove through the streets, Bucky could only stare at his hand pressing firmly into Steve’s hip. At one point, Steve lurched to a stop at a quickly-changing yellow and Bucky’s chest slammed into his back and his face against the breadth of Steve’s shoulders.

“Sorry,” said the driver. Bucky straightened and grunted. They sat at the light, not saying anything. The people in the cars next to them were snapping pictures and Bucky pressed the top of his head against Steve’s back so that his hair would fall in front of his face and they couldn’t see him. “It’s okay, Buck. We’ll get you home in no time.” 

~~~

When Bucky and Steve walked into Steve’s apartment, Bucky stiffened. The haircut and shave had made him feel better, but this new place that he had infiltrated days before regressed him to his Smithsonian mindset. The brunette stood on the doorstep, frozen once again. Bile rose in his throat and he looked at Steve, wide-eyed. His mouth fell open in terrified gasps. “Steve.” Vocalizing was one thing that had been much better since the haircut. The taller man looked at him, almost forgetting that Bucky would have a problem with going to places that he had done things in.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? We can go out if you don’t want to order in.” Steve was watching his friend carefully for any signs that might suggest that Bucky would force himself to do something that would make him uncomfortable. Bucky shifted his weight and inched his foot over the line threshold. He felt a little better with one foot in, and finally brought his other foot over as well, now standing just inside the small apartment. 

“You’re ba--woah! Steve, that was fast, don’t you think?” Sam Wilson stepped from behind a wall and grinned at Bucky, who promptly took three steps back into the hallway, gnashing his teeth and raising his metallic arm to protect himself. His frightened eyes flicked back to Steve, who had a cautionary hand out toward Bucky. 

“It’s okay, Buck. He’s helping. He wanted to help me find you and make you better. You won’t need to be afraid anymore, okay?” Steve’s voice, as it had been when he was talking Bucky out of killing him and any time Bucky was scared, was soft and soothing, almost like a mother’s would be. Bucky, seeing a woman trying to unlock her door at the end of the hall and glancing up, stepped back into the apartment and took one glance at the kitchen and nearly bolted for it. His strides were firm against the linoleum floor and shuffled loudly.

Steve was on his heels and placed a firm hand on Bucky’s arm, whose hand was wrapped around the stainless steel handle of the refrigerator door. The shorter man looked at Steve, a childish pleading in his eyes. Steve could have laughed, jested, but he just pulled the refrigerator door open for Bucky and pulled out some four-day-old takeout. He dished it out on a plate and popped it in the microwave. Sam came up behind the two of them. Steve was staring at Bucky and Bucky was staring at the microwave, his head cocked to the side. 

He crouched in front of it and watched the plate go around and around. There was a loud beep and Bucky jumped and reached back to catch himself against the counter. He glanced at Steve, who had a small smile on his face as he retrieved the takeout. He stirred it to distribute the head and headed over to the four-person table. He handed Bucky a fork and all three sat down together. Bucky ate ravenously, his mouth closing over the fork like a Venus flytrap. He flinched, his mouth burning, and his eyes opened wide in surprise. "I never ate anything like this," he said, not indicating that it was especially good but rather that they didn't feed him too terribly well at the Hydra base. A smile flicked at his lips again and he glanced over at Steve, who was watching him like a proud parent. He was staring more toward his mouth, watching the food go in. Bucky would have been made uncomfortable if he realized that such a thing wasn't normally done, even in recovery stages, of that's what they were going to call this.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," replied Sam quietly, unsure if he was supposed to be saying anything at this point to the guy who was trying to kill them only a few days before. Bucky stared somewhat blankly, as if noticing Sam for the first time. Bucky flicked his fork around in his hand, a nervous habit he had had since he was...well, not younger, but more in a different war altogether. Steve sat up a little straighter and glanced at Sam. Bucky swallowed thickly and offered a small smile to the both of them as he finished his meal. He got up and gently set the plate in the sink. He could feel Sam and Steve looking at each other behind his back. 

“Is there something either of you want to say?” Bucky didn’t want to feel upset at them because he had spent too much time being angry for the past fifty or so years, but he was snapping at them and he didn’t know how to calm down. Hydra only taught him how to get bigger, angrier, and now he almost felt that that was all he was good at at this point. His breathing became shallow and fear crept into the corner of his eyes. He heard a loud snapping sound and his metal hand came away covered in plaster. Bucky slammed the particles into the tile floor, grunting in anger. There wasn't even necessarily a reason for him to suspect something about them. Weren't they trying to help him...? 

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sam jumped up and only really stared at the refugee. Bucky recoiled his jaw setting. The Winter Soldier was teetering on the brink. Steve slowly got to his feet and looked at his best friend with tired eyes. They were a deep blue against the plainness of his walls and furniture and, well, basically everything about him. Even when Bucky had first noticed that Steve had had the treatment, he still thought the best thing about his friend was his eyes. They did a good job of calming down the men when they were riled up. They were a promise of safety and loyalty, and they were one of the few things keeping the Winter Soldier from ripping the place apart. Slowly, Bucky struggled to fight back through and wrestle his ulterior self into the recesses of his mind.

"It's getting late, Buck," that soft, comforting voice again, "I think you should maybe take a shower, and head off to bed. You look well-overdue for a good night's sleep." Steve motioned for Bucky to follow and led him to the bathroom to get a shower. It was small, but clean enough and had a spout that resembled something like a waterfall. Steve showed him how it worked and tested the temperature of the water with his fingers. He shut the door on Bucky for privacy and Bucky promptly stripped his shirt off and threw it in a corner. He unbuttoned his jeans and toed off his shoes and pulled off his socks. He felt cleaner already without his grimy second-hand clothes. He unbound his splint for his broken arm and let it hang limply at his side. He scrutinized himself in the mirror.  
Under his light eyes were dark circles. His skin was nearly brown with dirt and blood. There were scratches on his face and on his arm, and bruises littered his torso. He took a few deep breaths to still his shaking. 

Bucky Barnes had never felt better.

The water was a slice of heaven against his tired muscles. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily as he washed himself, groaning sofly in pleasure. He rested against the cold tile walls and could have fallen asleep standing up. 

As he finished, he found a pair of soft-looking pants and a tee shirt much like what he had worn before. Steve must have thrown them in while he was blissed out. He pulled them on after taking his time to dry his skin and hair and felt like he was wrapped in the strong, warm arms of some sort of supreme being. He closed his eyes and this time both corners of his lips turned up and he sighed, his chest deflating and his posture falling.

Bucky staggered back to the living room where Steve and Sam were sipping beers. “That’s better,” said Steve with an encouraging smile. 

“He can take my bed. I’ll hit the floor.” Sam stretched and grabbed a blanket from off of the davenport. He threw a pillow down and promptly tucked himself in. He kicked off his shoes and tucked his feet under the blanket. A soft smile played at the man’s lips as he shut his eyes. 

Steve sent Sam a quick glance. Bucky just stared blankly at the floorboards. He nodded slowly and raised his head, looking in the correct direction of what he assumed was the bedroom. “That way," said Steve, "Do you need help, what with your arm?”

Bucky licked his lips and shook his head. His arm sort of hurt now, and he figured they’d take care of that tomorrow. He moved toward the bedroom, letting his hips return to something that they hadn’t done in a long time. They swayed slightly as his weight transferred from foot to foot. He let himself relax, almost unconsciously as the promise of a full night's uninterrupted sleep awaited. He heard a soft sound come from Steve as his gait came back into the swing of things, and for the first time, he grinned to himself. Bucky almost wanted to echo the sound that fell from Steve's lips, record it for all posterity. He turned around, his grin falling to a smirk.

“Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”


End file.
